The Flatey Enigma (18 page)

I
t was still raining at eleven when two detectives arrived in Flatey. They had left Reykjavik by car, shortly after Jóhanna had phoned the criminal investigation department in the capital and requested assistance on Grímur’s behalf. A coast guard ship that happened to be a short distance away in the West Fjords sailed to Stykkishólmur to meet them and then take them to Flatey. The ship was now moored to the new pier and looked gray, wet, and bleak in the evening twilight.

Grímur received the investigators on the pier, and the only other people there apart from him were Thormódur Krákur, holding his handcart and dressed in his black suit, and the three generations of men from Ystakot. Valdi had seen the ship approach from the south and went down to grab the ropes as usual. Kjartan, on the other hand, had asked to be relieved of any further participation in the investigation after the discovery in the churchyard, and said he was ill and had gone to bed.

The chief investigating officer greeted Grímur first. “I’m Thórólfur,” he said, before introducing his partner: “Lúkas from forensics. He’ll be examining the scene and assisting me in the interrogations.”

Thórólfur was a vigorous and slim man in his early sixties. His white hair had started to thin slightly and was combed back. His weather-beaten and clean-shaven face was wrinkled, as if it had been exposed to too much sun. Lúkas, on the other hand, was younger, probably in his thirties, short, and chubby, with thick lips and rugged skin that stretched over a broad face crowned with light brown hair.

Two men were on the deck of the coast guard ship, preparing it for the night at the pier. Figures could be glimpsed through the illuminated windows of the bridge.

The policemen were suitably dressed for walking in the rain, wearing good raincoats and rubber boots. They carried two heavy bags with them and an oblong box, similar to the casket they had used to transport Professor Lund to Reykjavik. The older policeman gratefully accepted Thormódur Krákur’s offer to carry their luggage in his cart.

They set off, Thormódur Krákur at the front with the cart and the others behind him. Grímur recounted the events of the past few days to the policemen and the little he knew of Bryngeir’s movements over the past twenty-four hours. Thórólfur asked how many people were on the island, including both locals and guests.

“There were fifty-two people here this morning,” Grímur answered after some thought.

“How many of them would’ve had the physical strength to do something like this?” the policeman asked.

“Well, that I couldn’t say. Most of the adult men and probably some of the sturdier women.”

“We’ll question everyone from confirmation age up to their eighties tomorrow. How many would that be?”

Grímur silently counted. “That’s probably twenty-two men and fifteen women. There are two old men in their nineties, and the rest of them are kids below confirmation age.”

The policeman was silent and pondered. “This shouldn’t be difficult to solve,” he finally said. “The elimination process should narrow the group down quite rapidly. I just hope that the perpetrator doesn’t panic and do something stupid.”

The sun was still in the air somewhere behind the dark clouds of rain, but was nevertheless beginning to fade. They walked past the doctor’s house, where there was a light on in the window. Grímur didn’t lead them up the shortcut to the churchyard, but instead he took the road that was more manageable for the handcart. Finally they reached the church, which was open. Högni stood in the hallway, wearing his sailor’s overalls and sea hat, watching the approach of the men. He greeted them with a wave.

The inspectors took their luggage off the cart and carried it into the church. They then thanked Thormódur Krákur for his help and told him he could leave, but that it would be good if they could hold on to the cart. Thormódur Krákur dithered until Grímur said, “Just go to bed, Krákur. I’ll take care of your cart.”

Thormódur Krákur tilted on his toes. “Very well, District Administrative Officer. I’ll be off then, even though I never like to be the first to desert the battlefield.”

Grímur turned to Högni. “You can go, too, Högni. You’ve done your shift now. Drop off by my place and get my Imba to make you a cup of coffee. No one wants to be alone tonight.”

Högni was visibly relieved. He took Thormódur Krákur by the arm.

“Come on, pal. Your good clothes are drenched.”

They walked down the slope from the church, without looking back.

Lúkas grabbed two large flashlights before the inspectors ventured into the churchyard. Grímur followed them, since he needed to show them the way. The body was clearly visible from the side of the churchyard because there was still some daylight, even though the rainy clouds had darkened the sky. It was close to the summer solstice, and the night would be very short.

Lúkas walked with a stooped back, pointing his beaming flashlight at his feet and the grassy path, while Thórólfur followed behind.

“There’s no trail of blood,” said Lúkas. “And no discernible footprints either.”

When they reached the grave the body lay on, the policemen stopped.

“Someone has been walking around here,” said Lúkas, pointing at the crushed grass around the grave.

“Yes, I walked there this morning and then the doctor,” said Grímur.

“I’ll examine the whole churchyard more closely,” Lúkas said to Thórólfur, “but if we don’t find any trace of blood, then the man was most likely killed on this spot.”

He drew closer to the body and scrutinized its back.

“The man must have been barely conscious when he was carved up. There are no signs of resistance. He seems to have been placed in this position, his clothes were pulled over the top part of his body, and then his back was slashed to pieces.”

He examined the hands, feet, and finally the head. “There are no signs of him having been tied up and no visible injuries on the head. He is unlikely to have been unconscious from a blow to the head.”

“What about alcohol?” Grímur asked “He was drunk when he arrived on the island, and as far as I know he never sobered up.”

“That’s something the autopsy will reveal,” Thórólfur answered. “We’ll finish our examination of the scene, and then we’ll send the body off with the ship. They’ll take it to Stykkishólmur tonight, and there’s a van ready to take it straight to Reykjavik. We should get a preliminary report back within twenty-four hours.”

Lúkas fetched a camera with a big flash. He took several pictures of the body, changing bulbs after each shot. Grímur was blinded by the light when he made the mistake of looking into the flash, and the whole cemetery seemed to completely darken between shots.

“It’s hard to believe the summer solstice is coming soon,” he said, looking up at the overcast sky.

When Lúkas had finished taking the pictures, Thórólfur bent over the body and loosened the coat around the waist. Holding the tip of the coat up in the air with the index of his left hand, he searched through the pockets with the other. The only thing he found was an almost empty bottle of rum. The drenched coat and bottle were placed in a large paper bag. Next, Thórólfur loosened the jacket and searched through its pockets in the same way. There was a plastic wallet in one of the inner pockets. Seizing it, Lúkas shone his flashlight on its soaked contents. A bus ticket from Reykjavik to Stykkishólmur, a press card with a photo of Bryngeir, and a checkbook with two checks left. From the other pocket he took out a wad that was held together by a thick rubber band. Lúkas carefully loosened it. A Danish passport, wallet, and Danish notebook appeared. He opened the wet passport with great caution. The photograph was indistinguishable, but the name of its owner was still legible: Gaston Lund.

Grímur was dumbfounded. “That’s the man who died in Ketilsey. What on earth was this man doing with his belongings?” he finally asked.

“He seems to have made more progress in his investigation into Lund’s fate than you did, District Officer,” said Thórólfur.

“Do you really believe there could be a connection between this deed and the death of the Dane?” Grímur asked.

Thórólfur silently pondered the question before answering: “If there is a connection, it’s strange that these papers should still be in the reporter’s pocket. If he’d been killed because he knew too much about the Dane’s death, the papers would probably have been removed from his pocket. At the same time, it’s unlikely that two events of this kind could have occurred in a small community like this without them being connected to each other in some way or the perpetrator being the same person.”

Grímur shook his head dejectedly. “I thought I knew all my people.”

Lúkas finished his job and then fetched the casket from the church. The policemen then lifted the body between them and carefully placed it in the casket. The paper bags with the clothes were also placed in the box. The body no longer looked like a red angel, and Grímur felt it now looked like a giant squashed bluebottle fly at the bottom of the box. He was relieved when the lid had been placed over the casket and screwed down. He felt he ought to say something appropriate, but the best he could come up with was the fragment of an old psalm:

“I lit my candles by the cross of the holy tree,” he muttered softly, but then he couldn’t remember the rest and just muttered a silent, “Amen.”

The policemen carried the box out of the churchyard and placed it on the handcart. They then set off across the island toward the coast guard ship.

It was almost three in the morning by now, and there were no lights on inside the houses, except for the doctor’s residence. Another corpse lay within those walls, and the daughter was alone in the house, so it wasn’t surprising that the light was on. Reverend Hannes had told Grímur that she wanted her father to be buried in Flatey. Gudjón in Rádagerdi was bound to have started making the casket. The body would be transported to the church after the closing of the casket.

The only lights that glowed on the coast guard ship were those on the bridge where four men were on watch. Two of them stepped on shore, lifted the casket between them, and carried it on board the ship. The inspectors followed them to collect small suitcases containing their personal belongings. Then they stepped back on shore again. The disembarkation bridge was pulled back on board and the moorings untied. The ship slipped away from the pier and smoothly backed out of the strait. It was only when it was far out in the open sea that it finally veered south and advanced at full speed.

The ship had been ordered to go straight to Stykkishólmur to deliver the casket and then return to Flatey. The crew would then remain on standby to assist the inspectors whenever needed in the days ahead. The ship would also to be used as a communications center. Everyone on the island could eavesdrop on conversations that went through the regular radio channels, but the coast guard could send messages that the general public were unable to decipher, and the policemen therefore needed it to be able to communicate with their colleagues in Reykjavik where the investigation was also still being pursued.

Grímur and the policemen watched the coast guard ship sail off and then walked toward the village. Accommodation had been set up for the guests in the school.

Question twenty-five: What did Ívar lack? Second letter. Ívar the Boneless was king in England for a long time. He had no children because it was said that he lacked carnal desires, but he wasn’t short of cunning and cruelty. He died of old age in England and was buried there. The answer is “desires,” and the second letter is
e.

D
istrict Officer Grímur woke up early, despite the night watch, and was dressed by eight. Kjartan also descended from the loft and said good morning.

“Feeling better now, my friend?” Grímur asked.

“Yeah. I’m over it now, thanks. I’m sorry for dropping out like that.”

“It was a perfectly natural reaction. You’re a young man and you’re not used to that kind of horror.”

“Yeah, it’s also being in this position of authority. It doesn’t suit me. I should have turned down this job straightaway when the district magistrate sent me here. This isn’t the kind of job I moved west to do. It’ll turn me into a depressive because my nerves can’t take it.”

“What doesn’t kill a man makes him stronger.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Kjartan answered.

It was still raining, and the eastern winds had started to pick up again.

Grímur checked the weather. “The forecast is for more of the same,” he said dejectedly as Ingibjörg put on her rain clothes to go out to the shed. The district officer had to assist the policemen, so someone else had to take care of the cows.

At around eight, Grímur and Kjartan set off for the school with morning coffee in a flask and freshly baked bread for the overnight guests. On their way they picked up Benny in Rádagerdi, gave him time to quickly dress, and took him along to the school. It was best to get started straightaway if they wanted to question all the adults on the island. Benny was undoubtedly the person who would have the most to say. He had followed the reporter around for almost two days.

The policemen were up. Högni had heated up some shaving water in a washbasin on a primus stove, and they were finishing washing. Kjartan greeted them, introduced himself, and asked if they needed his help.

Thórólfur eyed the magistrate’s envoy with an inquisitive, slightly intrigued air. “No,” he said finally, “we’ll finish the questioning ourselves today, and the district officer can bring the people in for us. You can just take it easy until we call you in.”

“Call me in?” Kjartan asked, surprised.

“Yes. We’ll be taking statements from everyone who was on the island last night. Even the district administrative officer will have to account for his movements.”

“Yes, of course. I’m ready whenever,” said Kjartan, nodding good-bye before he disappeared outside.

The policemen sat down for a coffee and offered Benny a seat. Grímur and Högni waited for further developments by the door, feeling uncertain about their exact role in these proceedings.

Four school desks had been pushed together, and the policemen sat on two sides, Thórólfur facing Benny. There was a long silence while the guests devoured several slices of bread. Benny lit himself a cigarette, and Högni handed him an old saucer as an ashtray.

Thórólfur finally signaled Högni to leave the room but invited Grímur to sit beside them. When the door closed, he turned to Benny and asked him for his name and age. The young man answered in a slightly tremulous voice.

The policeman peered into his eyes at length. “When did you see Bryngeir for the last time?” he abruptly asked.

Benny was quick to answer: “Sunday evening, at around eight.”

“Where?”

“In the shed at Thormódur Krákur’s place.”

“What did you do on Sunday, where did you go, whom did you talk with?”

This time Benny had to think a moment. “I met him twice. First at lunchtime. He came home to Rádagerdi and scrounged a meal because Sigurbjörn in Svalbard threw him out in the middle of the night.”

“Why was he thrown out?”

“This Bryngeir guy was a bit of a stupid asshole. He told me there’d been some kind of misunderstanding. But then I heard that he’d tried to slip into bed with Hafdís when everyone was asleep. If I’d known he was like that, I would have just let him be and had nothing more to do with him. Hafdís is a good girl, and she’d never have allowed a guy like that to go near her.”

“What did you do at lunchtime?”

“I gave him the leftovers of some puffin soup at home in the kitchen and walked down to Eyjólfur’s pier with him to look at the people from the other islands who’d come over for the mass. I had other things to do then, so I didn’t see him again until the afternoon.”

“What did you have to do?” Thórólfur snapped.

Benny blushed. He inhaled his cigarette and exhaled through his nose. “I had to go to the church,” he said. “I sing in the choir. They needed a tenor this winter and Högni asked me to join.”

“Where did you meet Bryngeir again?”

“In the island store after mass. He was talking to the storekeeper, Ásmundur.”

“Wasn’t the store closed?”

Benny blushed and averted his gaze. “Ásmundur keeps hooch in the store, which he’s willing lend to people for the same plus a half when they’re in need. District Officer Grímur doesn’t allow it, though. Bryngeir was trying to get Ásmundur to lend him a bottle of hooch.”

“The same plus a half? What does that mean?”

“It means you pay him back a bottle and a half when it’s delivered to the post office.”

“Did he get a bottle from Ásmundur?”

“Yeah, he got a bottle of rum, but not before I’d promised to cover the cost myself if Bryngeir failed to pay for it.”

“So you trusted him then?”

“Yes, I thought so. Or at least, he said he was expecting loads of money. I don’t know how that’ll work now that he’s dead. Maybe I’ll have to pay. I have to talk to Ásmundur about it. I have a good seal fur that should be enough to cover the debt.”

“How come Bryngeir was expecting money?”

“When we got the bottle from Ásmundur, we walked up to Thormódur Krákur’s yard. Bryngeir kept his stuff there. Then he told me that he had solved the mystery about that Danish guy. He was going to write about it in his paper, and no one was supposed to know how the case was solved until the paper came out. Not even the police. He said the paper would sell like hotcakes and that he’d get a percentage. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. He was going to visit someone and then try to get someone to take him to Stykkishólmur in the evening.”

“Who was he going to get to take him to Stykkishólmur?”

“Just someone with a boat.”

“Who was he going to visit?”

“He just said some friend. He was a bit secretive sometimes.”

“Did he know anyone on the island from before?”

“No…yeah, at least he knew who the magistrate’s assistant was, yeah, and Doctor Jóhanna. But I don’t know if he knew them really.”

“When did you leave him?”

“Around eight. I had to go home to dinner. I was hungry.”

“Was he alone then?”

“No, Thormódur Krákur came into the shed and they chatted a bit. I think Krákur was telling him old dreams. The old man likes to do that, if he can find a willing listener.”

“Did you tell anyone that Bryngeir believed he’d solved the case of that Danish man?”

“No, no. Just Mom and Dad. My sister Rósa heard it, too, but I didn’t tell anyone else, I swear.”

Thórólfur chewed on a slice of bread and drank coffee during the questioning. Occasionally he jotted something down on a lined sheet of paper.

Now Lúkas started asking questions: “You’re sure you didn’t see him after eight?”

“Yeah, I’d thought of going out again and trying to find him. Even to go along with him, if someone was willing to take him to Stykkishólmur. But then it started to rain and I couldn’t be bothered. I just listened to the news on the radio.”

“Were your parents home?”

“Mom went down to Stína at the telephone exchange when she’d finished washing up, but Dad was at home reading a book to my sister Rósa.”

“He can therefore confirm that you were at home all evening?”

“That I have an alibi, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I need that?”

“It’s good to be able to eliminate as many people as possible.”

“I think Dad fell asleep when he’d finished reading to Rósa, and then Mom came home.”

“So you could have left the house without anyone knowing?”

Benny stubbed out his cigarette. “I don’t think so. I don’t think I can ever leave the house without Mom realizing it. She told me that Bryngeir had been hassling Hafdís when she got back. Stína at the telephone exchange had heard it from the people at Svalbardi after mass.”

Thórólfur took over the interrogation again: “What did you two do on Saturday?”

“I met him on the pier when he arrived with the boat and then took him to Svalbardi so that he could ask if he could stay. We spent some time with Sigurbjörn, chatting and drinking rum. Although I got very little rum. He was incredibly miserly, even though he had two and a half bottles. Then we went outside and spied when they were carrying that Danish guy in the casket down to the pier.”

“What do you mean, ‘spied’?”

“Just, not letting anyone see us. Bryngeir didn’t want anyone to see that we were watching. I don’t know why. Then we went to Ystakot and spoke to Valdi for a bit.”

“What about?”

“Bryngeir was trying to find out if Valdi would be willing to take people to Stykkishólmur if he was well paid for it.”

“What did Valdi say about that?”

“Maybe if the pay was good enough.”

“What did you do then?”

“We walked back and looked into the church. Bryngeir started trying to play the organ, but he couldn’t play a note. Högni, the teacher, then came in and was about to rehearse for the mass. He’s our organist. He was really mad at Bryngeir for messing with the organ and was going to throw us out. But Bryngeir wouldn’t leave and just talked crap. I think he just liked winding people up. He was such a darn asshole. I didn’t want to hang around with him anymore and just went home. I think he just went into Svalbardi to have a snooze when he got bored arguing with Högni.” Benny shut up and waited for the next question. Thórólfur kept him waiting and stared at him with searching eyes.

“Have you any knowledge of how Bryngeir died?” he finally asked.

“No, I swear,” Benny said hastily. “I’ve already told you.”

“Right then. That’s enough for now. Talk to you again later.”

Question twenty-six: Left his guts on the roof of a church. First letter. They went to Folskn unexpectedly and immediately killed Gunnar and some of his men. Ívar Korni was in the loft and escaped through a window, dressed only in his underwear. He tried to get into the church but it was locked. A ladder leaned against the church wall, so he climbed up to the roof and stayed there for the night. In the morning they found him, almost dead from the cold. He begged for mercy but did not get any. A man climbed the ladder and pierced him with a spear. Ívar fell, leaving his blood and guts behind him on the church roof. The answer is “Ívar,” and the first letter is
i.